Healing // d.m.

| 8 |

  DRACO'S shoes scrape the sand outside her mothers beach cottage. He observed the small wild plants that her mother was growing by the porch, all dead. The level of dust that accumulated on the porch and the window drapes left hanging lopsided made his eyebrows draw together with worry. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. His mother was the only person in this world that does not deserve his stupid attitude.

  He took out his wand to open the door. When he found that it was unlocked, he had to stop himself from storming it and scolding his mother. He entered nonetheless. Narcissa Malfoy is a very clean and tidy person. She appreciated architecture and design. Draco remembers when she used to fuss about the furniture and decorations of the house, how she would remember where everything was placed and Draco would hide every time he made a mess. But seeing the state of this cottage, Draco was terrified. All of her things were messily placed, the sink not clean and the basket of laundry piled high. The floor was dusty, leaving his food prints as he walked further.

  Climbing up the stairs, she called out his mothers name.

  "Mom?"

  "Bedroom" her voice was so soft he barely heard it.

  The bedroom door was ajar. It was in the same unpleasant state as the rest of the house, and his mother looked horrible. Her beauty masked with deep dark circles under her eyes. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth were even more prominent. Her skin ghostly pale and her lips a shade of purple. Her hair always in this half ponytail, the streaks of blonde now disappearing. With a hollow stare she looked at Draco. She looked so weak, so ill. She wasn't like this the last time he met her 3 months ago.

  "You left the door unlocked mother." Draco said to her, he made a move to sort some of the clothing on her bed before sitting by her foot. "And when was the last time you cleaned? Or get out of the bed?"

  "I haven't seen you in quite some time." Her voice hoarse, she can barely open her eyes. "I thought you were dead by now."

  "Mom don't say that."

  "To be honest I kinda wish you were... Then I would have a reason not to live."

  "Mother stop." Draco's voice was stern. He stood up and began slowly folding her disarrayed clothes. The tables were filled with unwashed cups of tea. He whipped his wand sending them to the sink, clearing the desk.

  "Where were you?" She asked. Draco didn't want to worry, she already overthinks everything. She thinks about the war everyday, she thinks about Lucius even though he was horrible to her. She thinks about how she could have done things differently. She blames herself for getting Draco involved, which made him even more furious because he was old enough to make his own decisions and he was a coward.

  "I had something to do." He gave a simple reply.

  "Are you okay?" Her eyes went soft.

  "I'm fine."

  "Something must have happened where were-" She was interrupted by her own coughing. It started as a small itch turning into big whooping coughs that made her wheeze. Draco came over refilling a glass with water with his wand. In between her coughing fit she pulled out a handkerchief by her side and covered her mouth. Draco helped soothe her by slowly patting her back and his other arm holding her hand. But his eyes went wide when he saw the blotches of bright red and some clots stain her handkerchief. Draco helped clean her hands, and she managed to take a few sips of water. He helped her lie down on her bed. He noticed there were a few purple bruises staining her arms. She was thin to the bone.

  "How long?" He asked angrily. "How long has this been happening?"

  "A little over a month." She replied, she didn't even bother lying.